Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
CHARLOTTE
The notepad on his lap is filled with my familiar handwriting. The little scribbled notes to myself were not meant to be read by anyone else. I still know nothing about his relationship history. Ask? And about aspirations?
But now Aiden is sitting beside me, a notepad in hand, inviting me to do just that.
If I share, too.
I feel too warm, and just a little bit tipsy. The wine was much better than I anticipated, and I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here, where he would find me in my sweats and camisole.
“I did wonder…” I start and reach for the glass of wine. The same one he’d just stolen from me. Taking a sip, I gather my courage. “When did you have your first girlfriend?”
He smiles. It’s a small, wolfish thing that speaks of all the truths I’m going to have to give him in return. Like I’ve opened the door and invited in an inquisition.
“I was sixteen,” he says. “It lasted for about a year. We went to the same high school.”
“What kind of boyfriend were you?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “You’d have to ask her, which you absolutely won’t.”
“You’re still in contact?”
“No, not at all. But to evaluate oneself…?”
“That’s the point of a memoir, Hartman.”
“Hmm, I like it when you call me that. Means you’re getting annoyed at me.”
“You shouldn’t like me being annoyed at you,” I say. “Masochist.”
His lips quirk again. “Well, if I’m the one asked... I think I was an okay boyfriend. Too self-absorbed, but so was she, I think, for it to be anything meaningful.”
“Did you love her?”
Something sparkles in his eyes. “I’m looking forward to asking you all of this. Was I in love?” He runs a hand along his jaw. “I thought I was, yeah. Sure.”
“You thought you were. But you’re not sure now.” I spin the wine glass around by the stem, slowly.
He clocks the movement. Looks at it, and then holds out his hand.
“That bad?” I ask and hand it to him.
He drains whatever was left. “You’re asking hard questions. Now? No, I don’t think I was in love. It was infatuation. Puppy love, if anything.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“You’re asking an awful lot of questions, Chaos. I think it’s only fair if you answer a few before I continue.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Coward.”
He just lifts an eyebrow, his face serene. “A deal is a deal. When did you have your first boyfriend?”
I am calm. I am in control. And I need to give up some of my secrets in order to get more of his.
But I fill up the glass of wine first. Across the couch, Aiden’s voice is low. “That bad, too?”
“What qualifies as a relationship?”
His eyes feel heavy on mine. “However you want to qualify your experiences, Chaos, is fine with me. I’m not a judge.”
“The first guy I dated… it was very short-lived. I thought we were something real, but we weren’t, and it blew up in my face.”
Aiden eyes narrow. “He hurt you?”
I shrug. Hurt feels like such an insignificant word for that period of my life. Blake and I were on TV screens across the nation, and my heartbreak and public humiliation played out to an audience of millions.
“He did,” Aiden concludes. “What did he do?”
I can’t say it.
He made you millions of dollars and launched a new reality television show franchise.
“He was my first love. My first… everything.” Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I look away from Aiden’s eyes. “I thought we were something great. That he cared about me the way I cared about him.” I shrug again. So casual, so unbothered. “But he didn’t.”
“When was this?”
“I was nineteen, at the time.”
“Were you in love with him?”
Every instinct is telling me not to talk about this. To keep the memories buried under the years of experiences I’ve stacked on top. The new identity I’ve built, the travels, the confidence.
I have to force the words out. “Like you… I thought I was. At the very least, it was a crush.”
“Mm-hmm.” His jaw is tense, and he looks back down at his wineglass like it has offended him. A furrow appears between his brows. “Are you in contact today?”
“God no. Absolutely not.”
I think about yesterday. The man I’d seen. So much more grown-up than the idiot I’d fallen for during the three weeks in front of the cameras. I was head over heels, plied with more compliments than I’d ever received. I’d lost my virginity to him in front of the cameras, too. And then he moved on. I know he’s had a string of others since that time. Enough for an entire pearl necklace. And despite my panic last night…
“I’m honestly not even sure he’d remember me if he saw me again.”
“Of course he fucking would. You’re memorable, Charlotte. Trust me.” His voice comes out harsh and just a little bit indignant. “A man can’t be with you and then forget.”
“Do you wish you could?” I ask. The words slip out before I can stop them. “That would have made this whole… arrangement a bit easier, yes?”
His lips curve slightly, one corner lifting into a crooked smile. “I’m not the type of man who likes easy.”
I take a deep breath, but I can’t seem to get quite enough air. His undivided focus is a big thing to be on the receiving end of.
“Yeah. I feel the same.” This entire conversation is a terrible idea, and, maybe, that’s why it makes me feel alive. Just as I had last night. Being around Aiden is like being close to a flame, playing with fire until getting burned. “What was your most recent relationship?” I ask.
“A lot of interest in my love life tonight,” he says.
“In the time I’ve been here, shadowing you at your work, I’ve never seen you with anyone. Haven’t noticed any dates scheduled in your calendar. And you appeared to be… single… in Utah.”
“I was single in Utah. I am single now,” he says. Just like that—simple words, eyes on mine. I find it suddenly hard to swallow. “My most recent relationship ended a couple of years ago, give or take a few months.”
Right when the news broke about this father.
“Why did it end?” I ask.
“I think it’s my turn to ask a question.”
I lean back against the couch and take a sip of the wine. Pull a knee up and rest my chin on it. “Hit me with it.”
“Why are you single, Chaos?”
“Why?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of question is that?” I dig my teeth into my bottom lip and look from him to the beautiful people on the screen. “This isn’t a therapy session.”
He smiles. “No, it most definitely isn’t.”
“I don’t know why I’m single.”
He waves a broad, long-fingered hand. “Take your best guess, then.”
I stare at the vibrant red wine we’ve been sharing. Liquid courage, coupled with a bad idea… and yet, I’ve always been good at making bad decisions. Lord knows it’s gotten me in trouble before.
“I move around a lot, you know? Because I follow the subjects of my memoirs. That doesn’t really lend itself to long-term relationships.”
“Where’s home right now?”
“Los Angeles,” I say. There is no apartment waiting for me somewhere, no collection of furniture painstakingly put together from the inherited and the new. No paintings I love, no pet curled up on an armchair. And I like it this way. I like my freedom.
“I see,” he says. “And you don’t think a right man would follow you?”
That makes me chuckle. “No. Would you? I don’t think so. No, that’s why most of my… relationships, if you can call them that, have been short.” I shrug. “It’s never serious.”
He nods, and there’s a speculative glint in his eyes. Like he’s fitting this into his own narrative about me, just like I’m doing with him.
I’m being studied in return.
“And you like them like that,” he says. “Not serious, so you don’t have to deal with any loose ends when you move on to the next place.”
His frank assessment makes me frown. “I guess so, yes.”
He reaches for the wine glass. “We’re more alike than I initially thought.”
“You don’t like loose ends, either?”
“No.” He takes a long sip of the wine. “And I don’t like leading women on. So I don’t.”
I tilt my head and study him. He’s still in a suit from work, but he must have tossed the jacket somewhere on his way up to the second floor. His white shirtsleeves are folded back, and the top two buttons are undone. His skin is just as tanned at his collar as it is on his face. His thick, black hair is messier than usual. And stubble is sharpening along his jaw.
I wish he’d grow it out more. Like he had it in Utah.
“Your work. That’s what ends most relationships for you,” I guess.
“It’s been my primary focus for a decade. Yes. It’s hard for a woman to compete with that.”
“Why do you work so hard when you don’t have to?”
He shakes his head once, a slight smile on his lips. “Only you, Chaos.”
“What?”
“When I ‘don’t have to’? What does that mean?” He tosses back the last of the wine.
“You’re incredibly rich,” I say. “Right? You could retire tomorrow and spend the rest of your days doing the things you enjoy. Like being out in nature, surfing, hiking, traveling… I’ve seen the history books you keep in your bookcases downstairs. You could study that to your heart’s content.”
“And live a life of leisure,” he says.
“Yes. Many people would, with your resources. So tell me, why do you work so hard instead? Why did you try to turn Titan around these years? Why didn’t you just sell it or let it go bankrupt?”
He shakes his head again. “My family name was being dragged through the mud every day for a year, my sister was getting papped, my mother was forced out of the life she spent decades building, a staff of thousands was threatened with unemployment… and you’re suggesting that I should have retired and lived a life of meaningless pursuits instead?”
There he is . I had suspected the answer. But it came out more forcefully than I had expected.
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” I say carefully.
“I work hard because there’s no other option,” he mutters and sets the glass down on the coffee table. “My father made damn sure of that.”
“You resent him for it.” It’s the closest we’ve ever come to a conversation about his dad.
Aiden’s eyes darken. “Wouldn’t you?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Then let’s make it about you.” He drapes an arm along the back of the couch, his hand coming to rest close to mine. “Have you thought about the night we slept together?”